The Danes can thrown down...

As many of you know, I went to Denmark to attend my friend Tim's wedding to his Danish fiancee, Maiken. Now, I really didn't know what to expect with regard to customs and proper manners at such an occasion, so here are some interesting facts about Danish weddings:

1) Champagne bottles are opened with machetes. Yes, machetes. They lop off the entire top of the bottle, and it's really amazing we didn't swallow shards of glass.


2) "Viking games" are encouraged during the reception, such as spitting and throwing contests.


3) The reception consists of two parts: four hours of speeches with dinner followed by dancing. Now, the four hours of speeches seemed a bit intimidating at first, but each person that got up to speak sounded like they were out of a movie. So poignant, sincere, and perfectly delivered.

Being that we were consuming as much of the free wine as humanly possible and the mood was getting quite emotional with all the speeches, we challenged Mia to join the amazing locuteurs with one of her own using the following completely random key words and phrases we assigned to her: "birds of a feather," "Croatia," and "magical journey," amongst many others. Fortunately, she backed out, because us lushes at the back table would have peed our pants. I wonder why Tim sat us wedding liabilities at the back table.

Aaaand we're back...

How I love France. Within the first FIVE MINUTES of being back in this god forsaken place, I was forced to call a lady on the subway a bitch. And I'm not one for public confrontations, but when you cut in front of me in line at the ticket machine and then call me stupid, then it's on.
I've started my classes, the main reason that I'm here this summer, which I pretty much forgot about. There's nothing like 3 weeks of straight drinking and travelling to get you prepared for 6 straight hours of lecture each day.
So instead of summarizing the trip, I figured I'd give a quick recap of each place we visited with some valuable lessons for your own future travelling.

1) Dublin: Beware of French male prostitutes looking to pick you up. Yes, seriously.
2) Paris: Be suspicious of everyone. Even the old lady at the supermarket will have some unsolicited advice for you about how to dress or how to properly pack your groceries. Bring a cardigan or extra t-shirt to cover your face on the metro from the cloud of odor in which you will be immersed.
3) Zurich: Don't get too close to the swans. They attack. And you can drink out of the fountains here, which is weird, but might as well avoid paying for the $4 bottle of water.
4) Munich: Be prepared to gain 10 pounds in 2 days on bratwurst and liter beers. Also beware of senior citizens who frequent beer gardens to attempt to pick up American tourists half their age.
5) Berlin: It's fun to imitate Germans in complete gibberish when you know they've just insulted you. They do not find this amusing. I also recommend strapping yourself into any night train bunks and avoiding general sightseeing in the countryside, due to the landmines (tip courtesy of tourist information desk).
6) Stockholm and Gothenburg, Sweden: Buy your alcohol early because the stores close at 6 pm. I have never experienced such confusion.
7) Norway: Little blonde Nordic children may seem cute, but they can ruin entire train rides.
8) Denmark: Some hotels here don't know the difference between credit and debit, and you may get into a fight with the receptionist who keeps telling you to enter your pin on your credit card.
9) London: Just throw your wallet over the gates of Buckingham Palace because your $ will be gone soon enough anyway.

More pics to come this week!

Scandinavia = pretty but no booze

So we are ending our tour of Scandinavia this week, later in Denmark for Tim's wedding, but today we are in the lovely port town of Gothenburg, Sweden, at a 7-11 checking our email. We started our trek taking an overnight train from Berlin to Malmo, Sweden, that literally looked like a metal toy train from 1957 Christmas pictures. There were 3 cars total with distressed looking interiors. Needless to say after being in the Reich for 3 days, we weren't surprised. What also wasn't surprising was that the conductor was clearly drunk, taking sharp turns at lightning speeds while we slipped all over the shower compartment hanging on to the towel racks for dear life. Mia actually had to be strapped in her bed, as to not roll off 2 stories below to the linoleum floor. I, on the other hand, popped 2 Klonopin, as prescribed, and was totally knocked out. When the train stopped in god knows where and men started screaming in different languages, Mia's cries for help could not be heard by me at all. That's how sedated I was.
So we survived and reached the endless sunshine of Stockholm. Seriously, we went to the bar and it was light out; we came out of the bar and the sun was rising at 3:30 am. We ended up at a locals' bar by accident and met some cool Swedes, including Johann, who you will see in next week's picture postings. We then took the WORST EVER bus ride from Stockholm to Oslo in the middle of the night where I almost overflowed the toilet on the bus and caused a riot.
We arrived in Oslo at the crack of dawn and got on yet another train to Bergen on the West coast and through fjord country. The train ride was amazing... glaciers, waterfalls, mountains, etc. After a long day of dealing with Japanese tourists, we took the night train back to Oslo yet again. No drunk driver this time. Why, you ask? Because Scandinavian countries don't sell liquor past 6 PM!! No wonder the Swedish train conductor was getting hammered in Germany. So yes, we are sober in Sweden departing for Copenhagen tomorrow, beginning our last leg of our trip together.
I'll post all the pics next week because I'm not uploading them in some shady 7-11 internet kiosk, so expect numerous emails!

Eingeschlagen

This is a very important word to know in German, as we found out this morning at the tourist information desk. Mia and I wanted to tour a nearby concentration camp, so we went to the tramline and the ticket lady kept sternly telling us that we couldn't go. We didn't really get it, so we decided to go to the train station instead. Still couldn't figure out what train to catch. So we decide to ask the tourist info guy for help and he also tells us that we can't go there. At this point, we're starting to think that the Germans are trying to steer us clear of WWII evidence. The guy tells us in broken English that the train track doesn't work, but he can't think of the English word. So he starts repeating "Eingeschlagen! Eingeschlagen!" and basically starts doing charades while the whole tourist office is staring at us and laughing. We're guessing all the wrong things- construction, the train already left, etc. It wasn't until he gestured digging something out of the ground and made an explosion sound that we realized that the track was closed for underground bomb clean-up. Yes, we needed to use the train on the one day since 1945 that they finally decide to do some archaeology. Apparently, Eingeschlagen means flattened, destroyed, bombed. Definitely keep note of that for future reference.

Paris Weekend Pics

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David Hasselhoff is no joke...

Greetings fröm Germäny, the land of sausage, leiderhosen, and genocide. It really is a beautiful country, but it's impossible to not constantly think of its awful history. We are staying in the Eastern part of Berlin, and we immediately felt the presence of communist influence the second we got off the train: graffiti everywhere, stark buildings, German shepherds running wild in the streets. There are parts of the city that are up-and-coming, but this city's past still seems to overwhelm it.
I'm happy to let you know that the icon status of David Hasselhoff here is, in fact, true. Even in Switzerland before crossing the border, our TV had what seemed like one 3 hour long episode of Knight Rider naturally followed by Baywatch. When I was at the Berlin Wall today, imagining what it would have been like to be confined and controlled, I also imagined what it must have been like to experience the amazing moment when The Hoff stood on top of the crumbling wall, lip synching wearing a keyboard scarf, and took credit for ending the Cold War. Such a political force he is.

Nudity and Streetfights

Only in Paris do you get the opportunity to see 100 naked people riding bikes and an out-of-control streetfight in a single afternoon. As we were crossing the Pont Neuf after a lovely afternoon of sightseeing, I saw a completely naked senior citizen standing in an intersection. Then as we rounded the corner, there were at least 100 more nude cyclists, most of whom really should never, ever go without clothes.


Later that day, while still recovering from the trauma of the naked bikers, we see the car coming toward us down the street stop short and we hear a loud bang. We thought the car hit a parked car. Nope, the guy hit a little boy who ran out into the street. So everyone goes running over to see if he's okay, the driver gets out, and the kid's father comes running. The kid is screaming at the top of his lungs and his father picks him up, and he and the driver started having words. Well, things got heated fast and the dad dropped his crippled child onto the pavement to start punching the guy in the face. So they just start going at it while the kid is wailing on the ground. Amazing parenting.

Going to the White Stripes concert tonight and off to Switzerland tomorrow, where the people are historically neutral and usually clothed.

Ireland Pics

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Grenouilles (frogs)

We made it to France despite the 2:45 am departure from Dublin. I miss Ireland already...the friendly, helpful people, the beer, the English-speaking. Mia and I have already been insulted twice by the locals: 1) at the market, we didn't weigh the red pepper and got made fun of by the magrebhin salesman (direct quote: "wake up ladies! you have to weigh the pepper!), 2) the chinese grocery store cashier told me that i wasn't holding my bags properly because apparently americans are so dumb that we don't know how to hold a plastic bag.
so, yes, how i've missed this place. the insults, sexual harrassmentl, and constant sense of self-shame that they bring out in you for not being like them. i don't know about you but i don't think i'd want to constantly smell like BO, be hairy, and wear a fanny pack.
the one positive thing right now: 4 bottles of wine for 10 euros and a view of the Eiffel tower from my balcony.

Irish Times

So, we arrived in Dublin on Wednesday AM, slept off the jet lag, and proceeded to the Dublin pubs. Drunks are expected in Ireland as much as the rain, so it wasn't really shocking when we went to Temple Bar and encountered the drunkest girl we've ever seen in our lives.
This girl rolls up to the bar with her shirt pulled up to her boobs and her underwear sticking out of her pants. Sign #1 that it's time to take your friend home. Well, her "friend" that was with her had gray teeth (yes, gray) and reeked of garlic. We concluded that they were Eastern Europeans and I'm pretty sure that we were right.
So, Mia and I are at the bar minding our pints and our own business when psychodrunk from Bratislava comes up to the bar and literally pushes Mia off the stool. She then starts pounding her fists on the bar screaming "Shaaaaanty!!" Obviously no one knew wtf was up with this girl. She then starts screaming for a pen "Shaaanty! Pen!!" and the confused bartender gave her a postcard. Of course, she wrote Shaaanty on it and grabbed the bartender by his collar screaming Shaanty.
I decided to go outside and consult with Gray Tooth about the misfortune of her friend. "Your friend is self-destructing in the bar, big time" and the response was "Oh well, she's drunk." Way to be a wingman.
So the bouncer kicked her out after she was practically holding onto the bar for dear life screaming Shaaaaaaaaaaaanty.
Good, good times.